Tag: mentalhealth

I’m not normally this irritable…

I’m not normally this irritable…

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

It’s been a running joke in my life for the past six months that I’m the fool who’s working four jobs so I can afford to 1) live in this city, 2) enjoy living in this city, and 3) pursue the career I actually want to do. Obviously, I didn’t move down here expecting to be working in so many different places all of the time, but it became clear to me very quickly that that’s not entirely unusual for people who choose to live in London. I’d be coming in to work as a receptionist in a restaurant, saying I feel stressed out of my mind because I just finished a shift at a different job, only to have a pretty surprising amount of colleagues completely relate because they’d just done the same thing. And if they hadn’t already worked for hours in a different place, they were set to work double in the restaurant.

So, if you don’t have a cushty job with a big salary, or the safety net of inherited wealth, living in London is no easy task. Although, it does seem like even if you do have those things, the culture in this city is to work work work until your body and your mind can’t take it anymore…

Personally, I’ve no problem with grafting for what I want because my ambition and my stubbornness lead me to believe that if I work really hard for it, then I’ll get there; the jury is still out as to whether I’m deluded about that, but we’re doing well so far. However, the amount of work I was doing in the first few months of living in London ended with me having to spend five days in the hospital and feeling pretty highly strung most of the time. But I only acknowledged the extent of this after I’d been away from work for three weeks because of my operation, and I returned to my workplaces.

Needless to say, I love it every time I’m working at a radio station. Yes, I’m often behind the screen and helping with aspects of the production of shows but like most things in this country, the opportunity for progression in London and the ability to meet people you’d just never come across anywhere else makes every shift more exciting than the last. It’s a cliche, but you really have no idea of who you’re going to bump into in the lift, and how that can affect your life. Therefore, every radio shift I do reminds me that I’m exactly where I need to be for what I want to do, and it recharges me for when I then have to go to my other jobs.

At this point though, I don’t want it to seem like I’m showing up at my part-time jobs and hating my life for every second I’m there, because that’s not true. I sincerely love the people I work with and I’ve gained so much from now having experience in the service industry – in fact, I think that everyone should have a service industry job at some point in their lives, just to try and reduce the amount of heat we receive from customers because my GOD people can be awful. Regardless of the laughs I have with my colleagues though, working a silly amount of hours a week in a silly amount of places and being confronted by the public’s lack of manners and ignorance, started to regularly show me parts of my personality that I’m not a huge fan of. Most notably, the fact that I can be a bit of a passive-aggressive b*tch if my patience is tried.

Lol.

I know that my reflex is always to be a nice, open, smiley person, but I’m human and if you have (literally) hundreds of people in one day asking you the same thing; lots of them shouting at you because the environment is loud, and a pretty significant amount just being outright rude towards you, whilst you’re already running on fumes because you’ve worked non-stop for 6,7,8 days in a row, then you might start to answer people’s questions a little passive-aggressively. Or you might walk into the next job and have to stare at the ceiling in the toilets, trying not to cry, after your other boss asked you to work a few extra hours. It’s not surprising that I started to react to situations in this way, but the confrontation and the negativity aren’t me, so there came a point where I had to get rid of one job before those previously small parts of my personality grew into something more solid. And thus, I handed in my resignation for one of the part-time jobs. I’m sad to be leaving my colleagues, but I’ve secured enough radio shifts now to make up the money and I’m looking forward to feeling less irritated by the public.

Without a doubt, it’s a luxury to be able to leave a job the second you see that it’s making you into a person you don’t want to be, and I don’t want to publish this blog without acknowledging that. However, I’ve too often seen people in this country stay in a situation that they truly hate just because they think that it’s less hassle to stay. This goes back to what I was saying last week about change though, in that it’s based on the assumption that if you make a change then everything will be worse, but if it’s really so bad now then wouldn’t it be nice to try and find something better? Again, I know that not everyone is in the financial or circumstantial position to just up and leave their job because they hate it, but hating your job (and low-key hating your life) shouldn’t be as universally accepted as it seems to be in this country. It’s not always easy to do, but we do need to get better at prioritising our own happiness because this working-until-you-croak thing is no way to live.

So if you really and truly hate your job, then see if there’s anything you can do about that, because we spend an awful lot of time in the workplace and it’d be a shame for that time to be saturated in negativity.

Ch ch ch changes

Ch ch ch changes

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 2 Comments

If I’m trying to be my most pragmatic, sensible self, then I’d like to say that I’m not at all scared of change; in fact, I welcome all of the exciting new things that can come with switching things up. Buuuuuuutttttt, change isn’t always positive, nor are the outcomes ever fixed, so I think it’s better to explain how I’m experiencing change at the minute as it being like I’m sitting on a see-saw: one end has an overwhelming sense of excitement, whilst the other has an equally overwhelming feeling of terror. Which way it leans really depends on the day.

At the very start of this year, I’m not going to lie to you, sitting in a hospital gown with a cannula in my left arm had me leaning all the way over to terror, whereas, when I heard that I’d been given two Christmas shows on BBC Radio 1, you’d best believe the see-saw was so far towards excitement that it looked more like a slide. Then we were feeling a mixture of both when it came to coming back to London after my operation because I’m still having to bandage my foot every day but at least I’m back in the groove of pursuing a radio career. Oh, and I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I now have parents who live in Rio de Janeiro in Brazil! You know…that really standard change for parents to make to their lives once all of their children have moved out? – I’m completely supportive and excited about that one, but it’d be silly to not include that in the paragraph listing the biggest changes in my life recently.

So then, if you’re an emotional stress head with control freak tendencies like me, how do you cope with so much change in such a short period of time?

Well, it’s definitely made easier by the fact that I’m a cup-half-full kind of a gal, so I do naturally move towards finding the positives in a situation. But I think that the main way I’m dealing with it is by viewing every recent change positively – even the traumatic emergency operation at the start of the year. At the time, I was terrified that my Spina Bifida was about to strip me of my independence just when I needed to be out there grafting for a radio career; that I was going to be sitting in my room alone, resenting my own body as I had to wait around for it to heal. And yes, we’re still not healed, we’re still bandaging every day, but by speaking openly about the operation, and by reframing the whole thing in my head as an accidental injury like a sprained ankle or broken arm, I feel so much less stressed about my foot than I have for a very long time. Furthermore, I’ve now experienced an operation in my adult life, so if something like that happens again, then it won’t be such a nasty shock to the system because at least I’ll remember what the process feels like.

This trust that I can continue to be independent whilst having problems with my feet and living in a city as big as London, also allowed me to only be happy for my parents when they made their move, rather than feeling like I was losing my biggest support network to South America. The fact is, that when you’ve had a physical disability since birth, there’s a period in your late teens and then early twenties where you have to inherit that disability from your parents because even though the Spina Bifida has always belonged to my body, the practicality of dealing with it didn’t really lie with me until I moved out, and even then, it’ll take years before I know all the details of my Spina Bifida the way my parents do. For example, the whole operation thing: I hadn’t done that since I was seven years old, so even though I’m a strong, articulate, independent 23-year-old woman, I had to call my Mum and Dad to ask them the answers to the questions the doctors were asking me about my own body. I have the scars, but I don’t know the technicalities behind why a doctor cut me there.

A lot is changing in my life right now, and in some contexts, I don’t entirely recognise myself. I don’t mean that in a bad way – in fact, I feel far more settled and happier now than I did in my final year of university – it’s just that there’s a lot going on and it sometimes takes my brain a second to keep up. Surrendering to a situation and not focusing on controlling things doesn’t come naturally to me, but coping with change becomes much easier if I do that, thus, going with the flow is the motto right now.

Loosey goosey bby, looOooOooseyy goOoseeyy.

Kicking off the New Year with a BANG

Kicking off the New Year with a BANG

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I was going to write my first blog of the year about being a Christmas presenter on BBC Radio 1, but I’m currently sitting in a hospital bed with a cannula in my left arm, and a hefty bandage on my foot. So…as much as being a Christmas presenter was an absolute adrenaline rush, and proof that that’s exactly what I want to do for many years to come, let’s talk about why I’m in the hospital gown first.

I put a lot of time, energy and effort every day into not letting my disability stop me from doing whatever I want to do. I monitor my condition the way I’ve been taught how, I’m careful, but mostly, I just don’t focus on it because it’s not the only thing that I am. But an unhelpful consequence of that is that sometimes my ability to get on with it means that people forget I’m disabled at all, or they at least assume that it really can’t be that bad. (I think I even convince myself of both of those things too on occasion…) The reality though, is that the condition of my feet can turn literally overnight – as it did on Saturday.

I’d had a teeny tiny bit of bleeding from my foot on Boxing Day, for absolutely no reason, but I was due to do my first Radio 1 show that morning so I bandaged it and refused to let it ruin my day. Then it didn’t bleed anymore for the next couple of days so I forgot about it. I was exhausted from working all the time, and the excitement of my radio shows, so I got the flu on Wednesday. I went to work Saturday night, had already checked my foot before my shift – it was fine – but then throughout the shift I started to feel really sick. Like, I fully thought I was going to pass out on multiple occasions. In the back of my head, I knew that the way I was feeling was how I’d felt when I’d had quite serious infections in my foot which had spread all the way up to the top of my leg, but that didn’t make any sense because I’d checked my foot three hours ago and it hadn’t even been a little bit red. (Mostly, I was willing what I knew to be true to not be.) So, I do the 8-hour shift, feel progressively worse, get home, boom: swollen and infected foot, cry myself to sleep, A&E the next morning, get told I need an operation to remove the infection, here we are day three in the hospital with antibiotics being pumped into my arm.

I’ve had operations before – six of them to be precise – but the only thing is, I don’t really remember them. The last one I’d had before yesterday morning’s was when I was seven years old, so yes, I’ve done this before, but also not really. What’s more, is yes, I’ve been in hospitals plenty and I’m no stranger to the A&E department or an infected foot, however, that doesn’t mean that I’m not frightened every time it happens. I mean, when I saw the state of my foot after my shift on New Year’s Eve, I literally said the words ‘I’m scared’ to my empty room in between my sobs before I fell asleep.

What’s strange, is that when I was little and I had my operations, I remember nurses and doctors telling me that I was ‘so brave’ even when I had tears streaming down my face. But I can tell you right now, yesterday morning when I felt the nurse wiping my tears as the anasthetic forced me to sleep, I didn’t feel very brave at all. Quite the opposite. And I think that the main problem I have with that word, is that it seems to imply some sort of choice, when the truth is that sometimes my foot just throws me to the bottom of a black pit, then terrifies and tortures me for a while. But the worst part is always that there’s no point in fighting; I have to voluntarily give in to everything that I hate, and I feel weak and small and none of it ever seems fair.

However, this time around I’ve made a point of silencing the voice in my head which tells me that I shouldn’t make a fuss, or complain, and I’ve told people what’s going on so that they can then support me. It’s not easy to do, because I think part of me assumes that sharing this intensely vulnerable part of my life will make people forget everything else they know about me and only see my disability, or they’ll think that I’m just being attention-seeking. Nonetheless, this Spina Bifida sh*t can be truly awful sometimes, and if I have to do it on my own I’ll crumble, so it might sound obvious, but it’s been a huge relief to see that if I actually tell people what’s going on, then I’ll get all the support I need. Plus, as traumatic as it is to be the one to live through it, it’s kind of nice to show people that I’m not exagerrating when I tell them that it can get bad – first-hand experience always comes in handy when you then ask friends about walking distances on a night out, for example.

So yes, hospital has not been fun lol. But I’ve done the operation, deep breaths have been taken, Disney films have been watched and plenty of love has been felt. Now let’s just round up the whole shebang by getting the bloody cannula out and my foot all healed so I can have some fun in 2023, shall we?

It’s the most wonderful time of the year?

It’s the most wonderful time of the year?

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

When I graduated from university in the summer of this year, there were so many ‘next steps’ to complete that I never felt like I took a second to sit down and think about what I want from this part of my life. I’d already spent months juggling problems with my feet and writing essays, a dissertation, completing exams, and feeling totally disenfranchised with my university environment, so once it finished, to be honest I was relieved. Instead of taking a break from planning the next thing though, I just redirected my brain to going on holiday with my friend, spending time with my family, and the logistics of moving to a city to pursue a career.

I know that my ability to be super organised, focused, and to work like an absolute pack horse often gives people the impression that I have everything figured out, and honestly, sometimes I trick myself into thinking the same thing. It’s only really been since I’ve moved into this part of my life – away from the safety and structure of family and educational institutions – that I’ve realised there are so many parts of life where I’ve got absolutely no clue.

But you know what I’m going to say here, right?…That it’s totally okay to have no idea what you’re doing! In fact, it’s part of the fun.

I’ll level with you here though, and say that ‘living in the moment’ and not fixating on the million and one things I need to do next are not ways of living that come naturally to me. I’m a hard worker, and I’m a cup-half-full kind of a gal, but I’m also potentially one of the most impatient people you’ll ever meet. As in, I can experience a huge success on Monday and by Thursday, I’m texting my friends saying that I’m bored. But this is a habit that I’m really trying to get out of, because I’ve been given enough pep talks by drunken middle-aged women in the smoking area of pubs, to know that if I keep being this way, then one day I’ll wake up with wrinkles and greying hair, wondering where half of my life went.

(Shout-out to that brand of Yorkshire woman by the way; long may you ladies bring the flavour to the night-out.)

Unfortunately, so many of us spend a hefty amount of our time getting worked up over feeling like we don’t have every aspect of our lives figured out. I’ve had countless conversations with people of all ages stressing because they think that they’re not at the point they ‘should’ be at, but what does ‘should’ even mean anyway? Who decides what each of us ‘should’ be doing? Surely, that’s just us getting lost in social conventions and comparisons, before asking ourselves what it is we want to be doing right now and whether there’s anything we need to change to get there.

Maybe what I’ve written this week doesn’t feel relatable to you right now, but this is the time of the year when we’ve got to be extra aware of how those around us are feeling. I won’t lie to you, I love Autumn into Winter, but as much as I love watching the leaves change colour and hearing firework displays in the distance, this is also the season when many of us start to feel cold, tired, and fed up. I also know that a large proportion of my readers are British, so it’s likely that you suffer from our nation’s inability to talk about these types of feelings without aggressively cringing, and I get you; this blog isn’t that deep or existential, and still, I found it difficult to write what I wanted to say. But the momentary cringing or the incoherent sentences are better than the middle-of-the-night solo breakdown. So, if you’re feeling some type of way right now, then swallow your pride and just call your friend to talk about whatever’s on your mind; you might not share everything whilst you chat, but odds are, at some point in the conversation you’ll have a laugh. And when has that not helped to calm you down or cheer you up?

Maybe don’t answer EVERY question…

Maybe don’t answer EVERY question…

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I realised the other day that in the five years since I left school, I’ve spent a hefty amount of my time meeting and developing new relationships with people. I’ve travelled to lots of different places – both abroad and in Britain – and everywhere I’ve been I’ve come across people who I didn’t like, but more often than not, every new place brought me loads of new friends. In some cases, I even did a complete 180 in my opinion of someone as I acknowledged that your first impression of a person might not always be the best representation of what they’re actually like.

I’ve always been somebody who actively enjoys spending time with other people, however, even with this love for a ‘getting to know you’ conversation, I’ve noticed that in the past couple of years I’ve become far more cagey with a new group of people than I ever have been before. But to ensure that we’re all on the same page here, when I say ‘cagey’ I don’t mean that I’m rude or standoffish with people, it’s just that I’ve learned that it’s not always the best move to go into social situations as an entirely open book because by doing that, you don’t leave very much room to protect yourself.

When I was at school, I was the type of person who would tell anyone whatever they wanted to know about me: they could ask about my disability, my family, my fears, my aspirations, who I fancied, or literally anything else they could think of and I’d probably tell them the tale. In fact, I’d love telling the tale. This tendency towards openness and honesty isn’t something that I want to completely get rid of because without it we’d have no blog, and I also wouldn’t be myself, but there have been moments over the past few years when I realised just how exhausting it is to meet new people and answer all of these questions, only for many of those relationships to fizzle at some point. After all, once we’re out of school or university, most of us don’t have the time to maintain loads of friendships in between working and general living. So sometimes, it’s better to conserve your energy and not offload everything about yourself to whatever stranger you get along with for twenty minutes at a party, because repeatedly doing that in environments such as school, university, or a new job, really does take it out of you.

However, this newfound cageyness I’m talking about doesn’t just stem from the fact that it’s tired me out to be so honest, it’s also because I’ve sometimes been a little naive about who I can trust with the more vulnerable aspects of my personality. The fact is, that in order for any relationship to be fulfilling – be it platonic or romantic – there’s got to be an equal amount of effort put in by both sides, but if you’re like me then you might have had a few situations where you’ve realised that you’ve gotten upset because somebody hasn’t given you the same energy you were giving them, and even though that can be painful, were you maybe giving a little too much too quickly?..Then on the other side of this, have you potentially been the person in romantic relationships or friendships who has had somebody open up to you, and you haven’t respected their choice to do that in the way you should’ve?

I’ve probably done both, to be honest: I’ve definitely overshared and then been burnt by someone not caring as much as I thought they would, and I’m human, so I’ve undoubtedly been thought of as not being there for a person in the way they wanted me to be. Therefore, I’m not writing this blog because I think that there’s a perfect level of openness when forming relationships with new people – obvs, it’d be ideal for each of us to look into a crystal ball and know how much we can trust or rely on a person before we invest time into them, but that’d also take all the fun out of meeting and getting to know new people. So, I guess it’s about realising what works well for you in these situations.

For me, I was doing and giving way too much too quickly because I like knowing people really well (because I’m a freak and I find people very interesting), and I kind of figured that if I open up to someone then they’ll open up to me too, without respecting myself enough to acknowledge how exhausting it is to be that way. So, we’re not going to be a totally closed book, because human connection is one of the joys of everyone’s lives, we’re just going to be a liiiittle more selective about it to conserve energy and emotions. It’s all about give and take, and you’ve got to keep an eye on how much you’re letting people take versus how much they’re giving you.

Quick! Someone get the stress ball!

Quick! Someone get the stress ball!

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

As a member of the most stressed and depressed generation ever studied by science, I thought that I would take this week’s blog as an opportunity to explain how I deal with stress in my everyday life. The short answer: not very well.

Lol

Actually, to be fair, that’s not entirely true…but I don’t want to kick this off by giving you the impression that I’m always on top of my own stress levels, and that I know exactly how to regulate my feelings in order to avoid having breakdowns because I’m not and I don’t. Generally speaking, I’m what some might call a ‘stress-head’, or ‘overthinker’. I don’t deal well when I can’t be in control of situations – be they relating to work or romantic relationships, or anything in between – and I’ve been known to take on too much all at the same time, overloading myself until eventually I get burnt out, have a (minor) meltdown, then wake up the next day to do it all over again.

Knowing this about myself though, I still don’t believe that stress is an entirely negative emotion – as long as you’re self-aware enough to recognise when it’s overwhelming you. For example, ever since moving to London last month, I’ve been so stressed that I’ve lost weight and my period was ten days late. (I realise that these don’t sound like very dramatic consequences of stress, nonetheless, they are clear examples of a tangibly physical reaction to something going on in my head.) But even though pretty much every day since I’ve lived here has been punctuated by to-do lists and an endless amount of unknowns, I actually feel pretty good; I don’t feel stressed in the negative sense of the word.

Don’t get me wrong, the first week or so of living in this city was purely bad stress, but as I mentioned in a blog a few weeks ago, my parents helped me get out of that panic by urging me to take everything one thing at a time. This advice sounds so obvious, but if you’re an overthinker like me, then you’ll know that it’s far easier to think about the million and one things you need to do, or what could go wrong, all at once than it is to focus on just one thing for today. Honestly, I’m still not fully there yet, but this month has definitely been an exercise in recognising when I’m about to wind myself up, taking a breath, and then just not letting myself stress about the thing I was going to stress about.

I’m in a good position, however, given that a lot of my stress at the minute is based on things that I love. For example, finding ways to squeeze in writing blogs or going to radio stations might take a toll on my energy at a given moment, but I love doing it, so I don’t end the day feeling bitter about how tired I am. Still, even if you adore what’s making you stressed, that doesn’t mean that the mental exhaustion won’t eventually catch up with you, so it’s important that even if you feel fine, you do little things to keep an eye on yourself. I’m going to sound like one of those American yoga teachers right now, but think about the little things that you could do which could help you to focus on what you really want to do in the day. For instance, if there’s a time when my stress is going to show itself in me getting angry, then it’s going to be if I see that my room or my kitchen is unclean or untidy. So I keep my room and my kitchen neat; tidy home, tidy mind n that.

It might seem silly to talk about these things, but judging from social media, we’re way better at listing all the problems with ourselves than we are at helping each other to find some solutions. So, I’d like to reiterate that this has not been me saying ‘ooo look at me, I’m so self-aware that I never have a breakdown because of stress’, because I wouldn’t have a blog if I wasn’t an over-thinker and stress-head. But I’m trying my best to be better at not letting my mind just run, and trying is all we can do really innit.

If you are feeling a little strung-out at the minute though, top tips are: deep breath, lots of water, plenty of sleep, read a book before bed, listen to music, keep your room tidy, have a cry if you need to, and speak to someone who makes you laugh.

You’ve gotta stick to your lane

You’ve gotta stick to your lane

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I’m the type of person who, in the appropriate situation, would like to look, be, or say something sexy. I’ll go on a night out, spot a wall which looks kind of cool and ask a friend to take a photograph of me in front of it, thinking ‘omg yes this’ll be a good shot’. But then the second the camera starts flashing, I can hold my face for a few seconds before I’ve got absolutely no idea what to do with myself and I end up pulling a stupid face. Orrrrrr, I’ll think I’ve nailed it until my friend hands me back the phone and my figure just hasn’t given what I’d envisioned…so all of the shots head straight to the recycling bin. But it’s not that I’m being consciously self-critical in these moments, it’s just that I don’t think that I give off ‘sexy’ vibes…

By this, I think what I mean is that I don’t see myself as demonstrating a very specific version of femininity associated with models and actresses. I’m visualising the lasses who can take the fire pictures, with the perfect bodies, in the expensive underwear, with the sultry eye contact from across the bar, and the bad bitch vibe where the men come running the second they walk into the room. And even though this expression of femininity is gorgeous, often it’s been constructed in order to make women sexually desirable to men. However, connotations of patriarchy and misogyny aside (very difficult to sweep them aside, but stick with me here), I do still want to be sexy and desirable every now and then – probably even if it comes with a hint of objectification – because in that context it’s on my own terms, but no matter my intentions I just don’t think that I give off that sultry kind of energy.

Hence I wonder, is my slight discomfort with the word a disability thing? Possibly. I mean, for centuries the (physically) disabled body has never been portrayed as sexually desirable, in fact, people have often been encouraged to think of the idea of disabled people having sex as repulsive (if it’s ever thought to happen at all). So yes, that’s probably playing a part in my inner monologue. But I don’t think that that’s the main thing going on here; I think what’s happening is that part of me is assuming that you can only really be ‘sexy’ if others describe you in that way.

We (particularly women) seem to like to categorise ourselves and our friends: at some point, we’ve all decided – actively or passively – who is the ‘cute’ one, the ‘pretty’ one, the ‘funny’ one, the ‘clever’ one, the ‘sexy’ one, and so on and so forth, as if there’s a correct way to be each one of those characteristics. These categories then cement to each of us what we are (and what we’re not), so when we’re described as a word that’s outside of our lane, we assume that a mistake’s been made i.e., I’ve never been the ‘sexy’ one in any friendship group, so that’s probably why I don’t see myself in that light.

So even though I’ve never ended a blog with a homework task, get ready! Because this week I’d like to ask that you consider whether there’s a word (or words) you’ve told yourself you could never be. Then, if you’ve thought of one, the next time you go to the place or do the thing that allows you the time to be with yourself and have a good old think, I’d like you to consider why you can’t be that thing. Finally, once you’ve (hopefully) come to the conclusion that you’re being silly and should stop putting yourself in a box, stop thinking and go do something fun; that’s enough of the internal monologue for one day. Wouldn’t want to overthink it, now would we? Or did I do that already?…

Making London moves

Making London moves

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I’ve never been a person who’s particularly scared of change, especially when that comes to living in a new place. In fact, once I finished secondary school I worked three jobs so I’d have enough money to go travelling before I started my university degree. Then when it came to moving to university, I definitely cried when saying goodbye to my parents but that’s just because they’re both so much fun to be around; I don’t think that I was actually that daunted by moving away from home. But last week, with the help of my parents, I moved all of my things to London and even though I’ve lived in a lot of new places over the past six years, this time the first couple of days in my new home didn’t fill me with excitement; all I could feel was terror.

When I’ve travelled to different countries, I’ve always only been there for a certain amount of time. Therefore, even if I was living in a massive metropolis like Seoul or New York City, I could square all the walking distances and activities in my head because I knew that once I got home I’d be able to go to the same doctor who’d been seeing me since the age of three, she could treat me, and if I had done too much walking then it’d be fine because I could stay at home and rest for a couple of weeks before I went onto the next country or back to university.

So my utter panic at now living in London was/is that this is now my every day and I don’t have an opportunity to overdo it and then rest for a few weeks if the condition of my feet does worsen, because if I get the blister then I can’t go to work and if I can’t go to work then I can’t make my rent. Not to mention the fact that I now have to rely on totally new doctors who don’t know the nature of my disability and thus, may not be able to help me in the way someone who’s seen me through all the operations and every type of blister could. Plus, I don’t have a job yet because working in the broadcasting and radio industry requires you to 1) be in the place where it all happens, 2) be able to network your way into the buildings and then 3) work from the bottom to the top, if the bosses judge that you have the ability to make it up there. So, I have to find a part-time job in order to make my bills and give me enough time to put my graft into radio and broadcasting – that part sounds easy though, doesn’t it? “Just pick up some shifts at a bar, restaurant, or cafe!” I hear you say! Only, I physically can’t be on my feet all day and the hundreds of other people also looking for part-time work can, so my chances of getting the work are slimmer and waaayyy more stressful than when living in a smaller city.

Thus, I’m not frightened of this move because I think that I can’t do it; I’ve always been a total grafter. Nor am I frightened because I’m scared to live in a new place, far away from my family. The overwhelming panic that I’m trying not to think about comes from a fear that this ridiculously inaccessible world will stop me from being everything I know I can be, just because I can’t walk far or stand for long.

But it’s not helpful for me to wallow in this fear, because if I did, then I never would’ve gone travelling or anywhere further than twenty minutes down the road. So you have to push it aside and focus on controlling what you can, rather than catastrophising all the ways the risk you’ve taken could end in disaster.

Once I’d moved a couple of things into my new room my parents asked me how I felt, and I tried my best not to let the nerves show because I didn’t want them to drive away feeling worried about me, but they, and my closest friends, all assured me that it’s totally fine to be frightened of this; being scared doesn’t make you weak or foolish. Living in this city with a physical disability is no small feat and I’m bound to have a bit of a moment every now and then, so the best thing to do is to quite literally take everything one step at a time. Then, once I know how to look after my feet in the big city, I can explore!!!

Get your kit off!

Get your kit off!

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Last week I was sitting with one of my best friends and I asked her how often she looks at herself naked. (Bit of an intense way to start a blog, I know, but I didn’t know how else to kick this topic off lol). I asked her this because we’re all well aware of the level of scrutiny our bodies are under in regards to what size they should be, what shape, what colour, what texture, et cetera et cetera. So, I guess I was just curious about how often my friend stands in front of a mirror and has a look, to then compare it to how often I do the same, especially since the act of looking at your naked skin in broad daylight is one of the most vulnerable things you can do. After all, we might not always like what’s reflected back to us.

My friend’s a total queen though; her response was ‘all the time’ and I said the same – buuuut, I did go on to explain that I don’t spend too many seconds looking at my Spina Bifida lump or my legs in the mirror, so I’ve got room for improvement.

I think that in general, as women, we’re not encouraged to stand with ourselves and get familiar without being critical, so it can be quite unusual to see a woman who is totally comfortable with her naked body. However, I would like to clarify here that by ‘totally comfortable’, I’m not suggesting that there aren’t things you dislike, or would prefer to not look a certain way some days because we’re going for honesty here, not idealism.

One of the best things I ever did for getting comfortable with my own skin was starting to sleep naked every night. I wouldn’t say that before doing that I was ever particularly uncomfortable with my body, but sleeping naked just forces you to see and feel yourself exactly as you are: you get used to your boobs falling in every direction depending on how you’re sitting; you see all the stretch marks and ‘imperfections’ highlighted by the sun when you wake up, and you stop getting a little startled by the image of your naked body first thing in the morning. But overall, sleeping naked allows your skin to breathe and everything feels better after that.

Quick sidenote: I do realise that a lot of my words and descriptions here lean very close to the topic of masturbation, and whilst I’m not really going to go into that much today, I will say: for god’s sake, masturbate! Especially you ladies! It’s good for you! (Literally.) :)))

Many people (especially (British) women) would rather die than speak about topics such as this one, but after being lucky enough to have known women of all shapes and sizes who are so comfortable in their own bodies that they’ll take their kit off at any given opportunity, I’ve never underestimated the power of being proactive in loving your body. Every clothing campaign badgers on about it nowadays – some in a very live laugh love sort of a way (*puke*) – but the human body is truly a remarkably beautiful thing, and even though we’re never going to love ourselves entirely every single minute of every day, making sure that we at least accept ourselves every day does wonders.

Regardless of how we each feel about our own bodies though, we should be careful to never (!) shame another person for being confident in their body just because you wouldn’t do the same. I like to sit/hang around my house in a towel, or my underwear and I’ll put the bin out with ‘just’ a big t-shirt and knickers on; you not doing the same doesn’t mean you love your body any less than I love mine, but it also doesn’t leave room for my body to be sexualised or criticised when all I’m doing is watching TV or putting the recycling out. After all, if you can’t wear as much or as little as you want in your own house, then where can you?

So,you think you’re a sl**

So,you think you’re a sl**

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

At this age, lots of us like to sit with our friends and rip into each other for all the times someone has been a liiiittle questionable when it comes to their romantic relationships – whether those relationships be purely sexual, on the road to something stronger, or somewhere in between. Maybe you’re the prolific dater, maybe you’re the type to get with someone then change your mind the second they start to like you, maybe you really enjoy flirting with people but you’re too picky (*cough* scared *cough*) to commit to something serious. Or, maybe you’re like me and you’re a combination of a few… 🙂 ! Well, whatever you are, as long as you’re not being awful to people, then I don’t see much harm in it. And, the chaos does make for a good drinking game.

I’ve posted enough blogs by now for you to know that I’ve never been in a relationship, and that the lads I attract tend to be a whole lot of talk and very little walk…HoWeVeR, I have been the third wheel for enough relationships (and been involved in enough situationships) by now to be able to say something about how we’re treating each other. And the main thing that I’ve noticed is that people are so terrified of being on their own, that they stay or get themselves into situations simply because it’s comfortable, and/or because out here in the single world most people are screwing each over left right and centre. I mean, the sheer lack of respect I’ve heard (and seen) demonstrated by some single people when they’re talking to or getting with someone on a night out is ridiculous. And there’s just no need for it!

I’m not saying that we can all come out of every experience looking like the good guy, because no matter how hard each of us might try, there’s always going to be a few moments when we’ve messed up and we just have to swallow that. That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t at least try to not be a d*ck, though. Yes, this age is probably the best and most convenient age to get with as many different types of people, in as many different situations as your heart desires because it’s a time when we’re free to put effort into figuring out who we are and what we want, but be aware of what you’re doing as you do it pls.

I’m a big believer in the power of surrounding yourself with sex-positive people who don’t feel the need to apologise for their sexualities because as much as I’m also very sex-positive, there are times when I can fall victim to the voice in my head that likes to give me a cheeky slut shame when I’m hungover. And it’s never about how many people you get with because I know lasses who feel rubbish about the 1 or 2 people they’ve slept with or texted again when they shouldn’t have. It’s about the fact that lots of us aren’t allowing ourselves and others to just have a little bit of fun.

Personally, I’ve not been hurt by a lad in quite a long time now but that’s just because I got bored of being disappointed and making all the moves, so I’m leaving it up to the lads to have the balls from now on. But me having that perspective right now, doesn’t make it inevitable that I’m going to start being rude to a lad who I kiss in a bar by ignoring his texts or playing with his emotions. It also doesn’t mean that I wake up the next day and tell myself off for kissing someone I don’t intend to date. And finally, it most certainly does NOT give me an excuse to judge and shame my friends for having a different approach to romance than me.

So if you’re going to take anything from this week’s ramblings, let it be the acknowledgement that even though it’d be impossible to never be the bad guy in relationships, that isn’t an invitation to always forget about respect. Ask out who you want to ask out, kiss them if you’re both into it, try and be nice about it if you’re not, and go on, have a bit of a FLIRT!